


Honey Sweet

by Poohzhunny



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Attraction, Gen, Julian Devorak's Route Spoilers, Red Plague (The Arcana)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 00:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20380507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poohzhunny/pseuds/Poohzhunny
Summary: Julian works to find a cure for the plague along his new apprentice.





	Honey Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> ⚠️⚠️**Spoiler Warning for Julian’s Route (sort of?)**⚠️⚠️

Julian paces, his hand running through his hair for the hundredth time in the last hour at least. He mutters to himself, counting off on one hand one finger at a time. “No, no...” A shadow at the door drags his attention for a brief moment. His assistant. She’s been working for him for weeks. Efficient. Helpful. Dependable. He liked her immediately and they’ve grown close since working together. She’s been a tremendous help, not to mention how much he’d like to nibble that lower lip of hers, but there’s no time. “Lilim, I didn’t see you there.” She smiles, holding a heavy package, and steps into the room toward his desk, looking futilely for free space to put it down before finding a spot where she at least won’t topple a leech bottle or ink well of some kind.

“Doctor Devorak, I brought what you asked.” His eyebrows raise and he tries to recall what on earth he might have asked for. His mind is racing too fast, he can’t focus and he knows the headache in the back of his skull is from dehydration. She lifts an eyebrow, waiting for instructions but when none come, she pulls off her glove and places a wrist on his brow.

He flinches but doesn’t move. “What are you doing? And didn’t I say you can call me Julian? I’m fairly sure I did.” He’s rambling. Again.

She shakes her head. “You haven’t slept since I left, have you.” It’s not a question. “Do you even know how long ago that was?”

He clears his throat, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Well, sure, uh, just a few hours ago.”

She sighs a long, drawn out breath and though her eyes twinkle with amusement, there is also genuine concern there. “It was yesterday morning. You need to sleep.”

“Nonsense.” He begins to pace again as she turns to his desk, trying to make sense of the papers there.

He notices her staring at the notes with a budding smile and stops to come stand next to her. “What? Do you see something that can help?” His voice his full of hope. He needs something, anything, to break through this disease.

She snorts, a little giggle under her breath. “No. I was just thinking that no one would ever be able to read these if anything should ever happen to you. All this knowledge would be lost.”

“Oh.” His shoulders drop, disappointment flooding in. “I can’t help but feel like I’m missing the obvious. I thought if I wrote it down, it might jump out at me.”

“You know what you need?” She says, taking his hand and pulling him away from the desk. His feet follow unconsciously, a flush creeping up his neck.

His smile grows, and he takes longer steps to catch up to her, stopping once they almost touch at the hips. “Ah yes, taking my mind off things. A dose of endorphins. You’re brilliant, you know that?” He winks.

She chuckles as his lips hover over her jawline and though she doesn’t seem completely unaffected, judging from the little noise that escapes her throat, her fingers push against his chest just enough to put some distance between them. “You’re impossible.” She sits at the head of the bed, tapping the space next to her. He almost collapses on the mattress in his haste.

He cups her chin between his fingers, giving her his best come-hither look but she simply boops his nose, shaking her head. “No.” She plucks the pillow from behind her and sets it in her lap. “Lie back. And hands off.”

He sighs but complies, resting his hands on his chest. “Still saving yourself for that imaginary boyfriend of yours? What was his name again?”

He can almost hear her eyes rolling and the grin that accompanies it. “If you can’t remember it by now, I don’t see how repeating it for the fourth time would help.” He opens his mouth to protest but suddenly, her fingers are in his hair, the tips pressing into his temples, sliding along his scalp, giving his roots little tugs here and there and he bites his lip as his eyes flutter closed. She finds the knots in his neck and works them out, going back into his hair between stretches. His body melts into the mattress with a long groan of relief.

Her skin feels hot against his. Too hot? He wonders briefly if she might be running a mild fever and mumbles something for her to try but darkness claims him.

When he wakes, the candles are out and the room is empty. He feels rested, reaching for the glass of water on his nightstand and downs half of it before setting it down. He slings his legs down to the floor, shaking off the sleep. Brundle looks up at him from the corner, unconcerned, before closing his eyes again.

Julian stands, stretching his long limbs as he walks to his desk to review his notes. They’ve been sorted, packed into neat stacks according to date and topic, kept together with colour-coded clips he’s seen Lilim use to keep her own papers organized. He smiles at the thoughtful work she put into helping him when his eyes fall on an envelope addressed to him. Inside is a patient report from her, detailed notes on their condition, what treatments she tried and the inevitable conclusion in their deaths.

Blotches on the ink grab his attention. Tears. He remembers the patient they lost on her first day. She kept her composure until everyone had gone home. He found her alone, crying silently, hiding her mouth in her hand to muffle the sound. He’d slid his arm around her shoulders and let her cry herself out. She’d apologized a hundred times, embarrassed. “Don’t ever apologize for caring about your patients, Lilim,” he’d said, sliding a lock of her hair behind her ear. “That’s what makes you fight harder, for them.” His words had helped, somehow, and she’d thanked him, clinging to his arms for a moment longer, just long enough for him to notice the curve of her mouth for the first time.

Somehow, in the midst of everything, she also found time to worry about him and make sure he sleeps. She tidied his office, and, by the contended look his face, fed and walked his dog. He’d have to find a way to thank her properly once the plague was over. Maybe some honey? She did seem to enjoy it with bread. Not to mention it was a great antiseptic and anti-fungal agent. Might it be useful against the plague, he wondered? He throws his cloak and mask on, gathers his case and heads out for the calls of the day, his mind already running through symptoms, patients, and possible leads he could follow.


End file.
